The Mirror Has Two Faces
by Shadow Sanctuary
Summary: If everyone thought you were a schizo, would they believe you if you said you were being haunted by ghosts? Would you even believe yourself?


The Mirror Has Two Faces

Screams erupted, a volcano of terrifying emotion burning the land mass around it.

"What do you want from me?" he screeched, grabbing fistfuls of hair. "What is it, what do you want?"

Nails pricked his scalp, leaving bloody threads behind. He didn't want to hurt himself, but his hands moved against his will, acting like needles stitching cloth together. But this wasn't some old garment that needed sewing, it was his _head_. How on earth would he repair _that_ if it was torn? He feared the answer to that was coming. But would he still be alive or conscious enough to comprehend it?

Shaky palms squeezed his temples. The pressure was unimaginable, forcing a migraine on his already tired and throbbing skull. Tears threatened to seize control of him, but he fought against it. He wouldn't cry, absolutely, with every fiber of his being, would not allow it. Admittedly, his body was about to break down. There were so many scars on him, everything from minor cuts to deep slashes, burn marks, and even glass chips embedded in his arms. Any added incisions would make him look like a corpse for med school students to practice on. Still, this wasn't reason enough to let his mind crash and burn. He refused to let it-the creature in the mirror-win. It could have his bludgeoned body all it wanted, but it wouldn't have _him_.

Gritting his teeth, he glared at the being in the mirror, smirking as he did so. It took the majority of his strength to do it, but it was worth it. It was _well_ worth it. "Don't think you can get away with this." he told the wavering image. The spiteful smile hung lustfully on his lips, like a dangerous dream lurking in a villain's mind. "You can have this-my skin-anytime you want. Any time at all. Not this, though," he gloated, wiggling a finger on his head. "not this. It's all mine, you psychopathic snatch. It's all mine. And, let me tell you something else," he added. Dropping his voice to a low whisper, he came closer to the reflective surface, twisting his lips higher as he spoke. "You'll never get it. Do you hear me, you insane _witch_? You will never, ever, for as long as I'm still alive, steal my mind. Got that?"

Before he could back away, the creature writhed in its glass prison, grasping its neck as it did so. His hands released his head, following the unheard order of the ghost in the glass. Immediately, his throat muscles tensed and his breathing became coarse and difficult. His frantic heaves mixed with the undead's angry cries, creating a duet only death would appreciate. Twisting in misery, legs buckled beneath him, throwing him off balance. If he fell, there would be no chance of survival. He'd bust his head against plaster before smacking it on tiles. Elbows hugged his trampled form to the sink, frantic for stability. For the first time in his sad, pathetic life, he prayed. He prayed to God that he'd live to see another day, promised fervently that he wouldn't piddle away another sunrise on depression and feeling sorry for himself.

_Naw, if I ever get the chance to breathe again, I won't lay in bed this time. I won't even pop Prozac or beg for a tranquilizer. I would be as happy as a kid at Disneyworld, making all my dreams come true in my Magic Kingdom existence._

Hanging on for dear life, he squeezed his eyes shut and called on every deity he knew for assistance. His grip was strong, stronger than it has ever been, but it wouldn't last long. He could already feel his skin slipping on the sink, his body lowering closer and closer to the floor…would he fall after all?

Cold sweat made his arms slick as a slip 'n slide. One moment, he was huddled over the drain, the next; he was dropping, swan diving into a pool with no water. Linoleum was coming up fast, but he was too exhausted to brace for it. It didn't matter if he died in a blood bath. He won. All that mattered to him is that he won-against the odds, the ghost that haunted him, even his own self-pity and human status. He was his own, and no one could take that from him.

"In pace requiescat!" he whispered, smiling to himself.

The mirror above him shattered, but his identity stayed intact.

* * *

Author's Note: As much as I love writing/creating stories, this will be the last new fiction I post on this site. Yes, I'm finally leaving, and I'm not looking back, either. I'm sick of talent less reviewers leaving nasty critiques of work I spent weeks or months on. What _really_ makes me mad is when some anonymous person would flame me, but he/she didn't even have the guts to leave a name or e-mail. I realize everyone on isn't _that _rude, but it's still a shame that pointless idiocy like that exists. Even though THEY don't take my writing seriously, I DO, and it PISSES ME OFF when my craft is taken as nonsense. Believe me; is largely at fault here, too. They've caused me enough grief, and I think it was as unnecessary as all the Mary Sue (translation: I-wanna-make-out(or have relations)-with-an-imaginary-character) fic.: As much as I love writing/creating stories, this will be the last new fiction I post on this site. Yes, I'm finally leaving, and I'm not looking back, either. I'm sick of talent less reviewers leaving nasty critiques of work I spent weeks or months on. What makes me mad is when some anonymous person would flame me, but he/she didn't even have the guts to leave a name or e-mail. I realize everyone on isn't rude, but it's still a shame that pointless idiocy like that exists. Even though THEY don't take my writing seriously, I DO, and it PISSES ME OFF when my craft is taken as nonsense. Believe me; is largely at fault here, too. They've caused me enough grief, and I think it was as unnecessary as all the Mary Sue (translation: I-wanna-make-out(or have relations)-with-an-imaginary-character) fic. 

If there is anyone who would like to request me to finish one of my stories, I'd be delighted to comply. Best wishes to all who have supported me so well, I've enjoyed every review I've read from you. Overall, my inspiration came from fellow readers and authors, and I have you to thank for everything I wrote. You all are amazing, don't _ever_ let anyone deter you from a career in story making!

Love and Happiness,

Shadow Sanctuary , (kisses!)


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